


I've but one life

by Tashilover



Category: Sleepy Hollow TV
Genre: Foster AU, Past Child Abuse, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their job, as it always has been, was to provide a safe and stable environment.</p>
<p>Foster AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've but one life

**Author's Note:**

> Though I've done research, my knowledge on American foster homes are limited. Please forgive any inaccuracies.

When Abbie came home from school, she found Frank sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of chocolate milk and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Abbie immediately knew Frank was going to have a serious discussion with her because he never allowed her to have chocolate milk  _and_  cookies at the same time. He said it was too much sugar. By letting her indulge in so much meant he was buttering her up for something.

As suspicious as she was, Abbie happily dropped down her book bag, slid into the kitchen chair right across from Frank, picked up a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie and took a gigantic  _bite_.

She could feel the chocolate chips smearing across her lips. "Mmmmm..."

Frank eyed the chocolate milk. "Maybe I should switch the milk out. I don't want you zipping across the walls later on tonight."

Abbie possessively pulled the glass of milk closer to her. She took a giant, noisy sip. She gulped, smacked her lips, and didn't bother to wipe off the wet milk mustache. "What's up?"

Frank laced his fingers together. "We're going to have a guest coming today."

'Guest' was the codeword Frank used when he meant  _foster child_. "Okay." Abbie said. "Is there something I should know about him? Her?"

"Him. His name is Ichabod Crane."

Abbie snorted.

"Abbie," Frank chastised lightly.

"Hey, it's not my fault the kid has a silly name."

"Well, when he gets here, you keep it to yourself. Understand?"

Of course Abbie understood. But Frank wanted confirmation in everything he asked for so he could be guaranteed from confusion or misinterpretations. Abbie nodded, and shoved another cookie into her mouth.

"Ichabod is coming in later on this afternoon. He's older than you, he's seventeen. He's British-"

"British? What the hell is he doing over here?"

"Language," Frank said. "His dad is British, mother's American. So be aware there might be a few cultural differences."

That still didn't answer Abbie's question, but she let it go. She continued to sip her milk, waiting for Frank to spill the beans on Ichabod.

Most of the kids that came and went from this home were simple, normal kids who got a bad hand at life. Abbie learned very quickly it was  _never_  the kid's fault that they ended up here. Some people should never be parents.

Then on occasion, Frank would get a unique case. Abbie has seen the way Frank's face would harden as he read the files. The darkness in his eyes, the thin pinch of his lips. A few times he has excused himself from Abbie's presence just so he could go to the bathroom and vomit. These were the kids Abbie had to be careful around.

Like Ryan from last year. Abbie never knew the stories behind these kids, and she has spent countless hours trying to figure out why some of them were like this. Ryan didn't like loud noises. If Abbie dropped a book, closed the door too hard, Ryan would startle almost violently. For the first two weeks he was at the house, Frank and Abbie were very good at keeping the noise level even.

Then Abbie made the mistake of leaving a spoon in her bowl of soup as she tried to heat it up in the microwave.

It took Frank nearly three hours to coax Ryan out from underneath his bed, where he hid huddled, shaking and crying.

Like Ryan, Abbie knew Ichabod needed special care and careful attention. She was just waiting for Frank to tell her what.

Frank laced his hands together, readying himself to say it. "Ichabod thinks he's from 1776."

Abbie blinked at him. "What."

"Listen me out. I'll spare you the details, but Ichabod's father was not a nice man. And as a result, to escape the abuse, Ichabod has created this... character. He may come out of it on his own."

"So... is it our job to help him...  _break characte_ r?"

Frank shook his head. "No, Abbie, no. You leave that to the child psychologists. Our job, as it always has been, is to provide a safe and stable environment for him. Nothing more, nothing less. When he gets here, don't  _mock_  him if he acts surprised by electricity or flushing toilets. Be patient with him, as I know you always are with these kids."

"Yeah, sure," Abbie said numbly. She expected a lot of things, seen a lot of things, but this takes the cake.

A thought struck her. "Wait... Frank, we're  _Black_. If Ichabod thinks he's from 1776, then shouldn't that mean he might see us as  _slaves_?"

Frank paused, lips pursing in thought. "Hmm... you know, I actually did not considered that."

" _Dad_!"

"Look, it's fine, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, go wash your face. Ichabod will be here in two hours and we still need to clean this place."

**Author's Note:**

> One shot for now. Do plan to come back to it soon.


End file.
